Holting Down the Fort
by RSteele82
Summary: (AU Series) Remington finds himself in dog house with Laura, after unintentionally embroiling them in Frances's latest round of hysteria. Never one to learn the first time, in an effort to make things better he volunteers his and Laura's services as babysitters on an overnight stay at the Piper residence. Will mayhem or romance follow?
1. Chapter 1: Dog House

_**The Alternative Universe Series**_

 _ **Toss the Twilight Zone experience of Season 5 into the proverbial trash can. These stories pick up after Steele of Approval. While Approval still exists, more importantly these stories look at season 4 as most of the viewers saw it - Laura and Remington had crossed that line, imbuing that Season with the "Mr & Mrs Steele" feeling that most experienced. **_

_**To get the most out of my stories, I recommend reading them in the following order:**_

 **Steele Forsaken (Part 1 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)  
Steele Mending (Part 2 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series)  
A Holt New Beginning (Part 3 of 3 in the A Holt New Beginning Series; Takes place during and after Steele Searching)  
Holt the Presses (Takes place during and after Steele Blushing)  
The Holt Truth (Takes place during and after Forged Steele)  
You've Gotta Know When to Holt 'Em (Takes place during Premium Steele)  
Holt the Sugar (Takes place during and after Coffee, Tea or Steele)  
** **Not So Merry Steele (After Dancer, Prancer, Donner and Steele)  
Snippets of Steele (Missing scenes from Steele on the Air, Steele Inc, and Steele Spawning)  
Holting Down the Fort (During Suburban Steele)  
Steele Admired (During and After Santa Claus is Coming to Steele) - Coming Soon  
Steele Moving Forward (Sensitive Steele) - Coming Soon  
Her Holt Heart (Beg, Borrow through the end of Season 4 [No Bonds]) - Coming Soon**

 _ **As usual, I do not own the characters. I simply borrow them.**_

* * *

Chapter 1: The Dog House

"Laura…" Remington elbowed his way past the bloke blocking his exit from the lift and scrambled after his headstrong, temperamental partner and lover. "Laura, wait… wait," he tried again, reaching for an arm, only for her to pick up the pace.

She had no choice but to stop and unlock the doors to the Agency, but he thought better of pleading at her feet in front of Frances, who was currently sniffling into his handkerchief. How? How had it all gone so wrong? he wondered. Frances had sounded legitimately upset when she'd called the office seeking out Laura's help. Convincing, even. Enough so that he'd tricked Laura into meeting up with her sister, knowing all would be forgiven in the end. There had been a murder, after all, and there was little Laura enjoyed more than a nice, juicy murder. Surely, that was reason enough to be a tad late to the East-West Convention, even if he was the keynote speaker, right?

Only there had been no evidence of a murder. No body lying on Frances's kitchen floor as she'd claimed. There had only been, and there still was, a hysterical sister Laura was now left to contend with.

"We'll use Mr. Steele's office, Frances," Laura directed her sister now. Laura narrowly missed colliding with her sister when she came to an abrupt stop.

"Oh, but Laura, Mr. Steele's your boss and I'm sure he's very busy," she fretted. "Don't you think we'd be in his way?" Remington winced when Laura's back stiffened at the words.

"Nonsense, Frances. What's mine is Laura's," he insisted, then winced again as she turned her head and shot him a murderous look.

"Yes, Frances, Mr. Steele is _very_ generous," she replied in a treacly voice. "So much so, that he's volunteered to pick up the children at school and bring them here while you and I have a little chat." She turned to face him. "Haven't you, _Mr. Steele_." To his credit, he managed to both suffocate the groan of dread threatening in his throat, and to understand the warning for what it was: _You've stepped in it once again, Mr. Steele, and if you have even a prayer of returning to my good graces you'll take this one like a champ._ He bestowed a wide smile on Frances.

"Absolutely. Cleared my schedule. Whatever Laura and her family need is my top priority!" he agreed enthusiastically. "If you wouldn't mind providing me the address of the children's school…" He didn't miss the smirk that flashed across Laura's lips. _Ahhh, dog house it is for certain then._

"I'll need to call the school. They won't just let anyone pick the children up, you know," Frances announced.

"Of course, of course. Help yourself to the phone in my office." Laura started to follow Frances, but he snatched her arm before she could get away. "Miss Holt and I'll be just a moment. We need to discuss… uhhh… the revision of tomorrow's schedule. Alright?" he asked shooing her the rest of the way into the office, adding, before closing the door, "Just a moment. I give you my word."

Pulling her arm away, Laura turned to face him, plopping her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"You just couldn't leave it alone, could you?" she accused in a stage whisper. "Whatever it is, it's just her imagination, I tell you. Let's get in the limo and go to the convention. But would you do it? No!" she bit out. "Now look at her!" She flung her arm towards the office door. "It's going to take me all afternoon to convince her everything is fine and there's no need to go back to Connecticut, destroying Donald's career in the process!"

"She sounded so frightened, so _sincere,_ Laura," he beseeched.

"Frances _always_ sounds sincere, Mr. Steele," she retorted. "When she's certain Daniel's teacher is a Nazi fugitive, she _sounds sincere_! When she's absolutely convinced the bag of garbage someone disposed of in the woods on the side of the road is a body, she _sounds sincere_!" Her voice had been steadily rising as her rant continued.

"Laura, she'll hear you," he warned. She threw out her arms.

" _I don't care_ if she _hears_ me. Do you have any idea how hard I worked to get you that keynote address?" she demanded to know. "And _just_ like when we were kids, Frances and her craziness barrels right over it!"

"Lau-ra…" he drew out her name in attempt to cajole her.

"You," she stabbed a finger into his chest, "Kids. Take them to lunch wherever they want. Until I'm finished with Frances, they're _yours._ "

"Awww," he croaked while nodding slowly, but wisely decided, given the fire flashing in her eyes, now was not the wisest of times to argue. Lifting a hand, he scratched his jaw. "How many are there again?"

"Three." He swallowed hard, then could only keep nodding as she spoke, "And, Mr. Steele… All three had better be safe and accounted for when you get back."

With those parting words, she spun on her heel, entered his office and closed the door. He stared at the door for several long seconds, then with a swipe of his hand to mouth, left the Agency to meet Fred where he should be waiting downstairs.


	2. Chapter 2: Two All Beef

Chapter 2: Two All Beef

By Remington's estimation, the afternoon with the children had thus far been a success. All three Piper progeny were besides themselves with excitement that they'd been picked up from school not only early, but in a limousine. Nothing like _that_ ever happened with _their_ parents, and Danny and Mindy would bet there was no one else at school who had been picked up in a limousine either.

All three children had fussed and squabbled about who would sit where, but they'd finally settled in: Mindy in the middle, Danny next to the window and little Laurie Beth on Remington's lap. Yes, he'd had to reprimand the two older one's several times on the way to lunch…

"Daniel, a man never puts his hand on a woman, for any reason."

"Geeeeeeeeeez, oh Pete, she ain't no woman. _She's Mindy_!" he protested.

"All the more reason," Remington responded. "As her older brother, it is your job to protect her and overlook those little things she might do to annoy you."

"Yeah, Danny!" said sister piped in.

"Shut up, Mindy!" Danny barked.

But at least they'd been silenced briefly. Then a few minutes later, a crisis of epic proportions had occurred with the simplest of questions…

"Children, where would you like to have lunch?"

"Kentucky Fried Chicken!" Mindy elected exuberantly.

"Taco Bell!" Danny overrode.

"I wanna go to McDonald's," the youngest piper begged, patting Remington on the shoulder.

"I hate chicken, you know that Mindy!" Danny protested.

"And Taco Bell makes my stomach hurt," she countered.

"I wanna play on the slide. I never get to play on the slide," Laurie Beth lamented, then tapped on Remington shoulder again and looked up at him with a pair of brown eyes that were identical to her Aunt's. That sealed it, then and there, for he was no more capable of saying no to her than he was the older version when her mind was set on something.

"Fred, do you know where there's a…" he swallowed the oath that automatically accompanied the thought of dining at such a place "…McDonald's."

"Awwwww, Laurie Beth _always_ gets her way," her older brother grouched.

"I do not," objected the little girl.

"Sure thing, sir. There's one just a couple blocks up," answered the Agency's faithful chauffer.

"Yes, you do. Because you're the _baby_ ," Mindy sided with their brother, saying the last word derisively.

"I'm not a baby!" Laurie Beth yelled. "Take that back, Mindy, or I'm telling Mommy."

"Drop us off, if you don't mind, then come back round for us in, oh, forty-five minutes or so," the 'Boss' directed.

"Tattletale," retorted Mindy.

"Children," Remington raised his voice just enough to catch their attention. Three sets of eyes landed on him. "We are not going to McDonald's because Laurie Beth is the youngest or any such nonsense," he offered, trying to make the peace. "I so happen to find myself in the mood for a…" and he stumbled.

"Big Mac, sir," Fred provided.

"A Big Mac," Remington confirmed, while giving Fred a questioning look in the rearview mirror.

The driver smiled to himself. He and Mr. Steele often discussed films while driving around LA, but he doubted his 'employer' ever watched TV at all. He recited off the Big Mac slogan.

"Two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions and a sesame seed bun." Remington frowned at the rearview mirror.

"Dare I ask?"

"Thousand Island dressing, sir," Fred provided helpfully, then chuckled at the other man's horrified expression.

When Fred pulled into the McDonald's parking lot, Remington alighted from the limo, the three children tumbling out after him. Leaning against the vehicle, he poked his head in the window of the passenger seat.

"Can I get you anything, mate?" This was one of the reasons Fred was so loyal to Mr. Steele and Miss Holt. He might be their employee, but they never overlooked him.

"I was just thinking a Big Mac, large fry and large Coke would hit the spot, sir." Remington nodded then stood, tapping the limo on its roof, before herding the children towards the entrance, feeling rather like he'd been sent to the gallows.


	3. Chapter 3: Youth Revisited

Chapter 3: Youth Revisited

Laura walked through the house, turning off unnecessary lights and checking to make sure doors were secure. She'd helped Laurie Beth with her bath and had sent her off to bed with a promise she'd be in to read to her as soon as she corralled her brother and sister into showers and bed as well. She mentally ticked off what she still had to accomplish on the evening before she could take a few minutes to relax. Laurie Beth's story, of course. Dishes washed and put away. Lunches to pack – never mind if Frances's daily schedule, which hung on the kitchen wall, dictated making them first thing in the morning. The coffee maker to set up. Linens and pillow to gather so Remington could make up his bed on the couch.

She wasn't sure if she could do this day-in and day-out… this parenting bit. Especially since in the Piper household it seemed the division of parenting labor was unfairly skewed. True, Frances didn't have a job and Donald did, but, still, the responsibility of the entire household fell on her sister's shoulders with Donald only assigned three tasks each day: Dump the garbage, call home at 1:30 and check the mail. All the rest, her sister: Make the meals, wash the dishes, clean the house, drive carpool, take the kids to all their separate activities, do the laundry, do the grocery shopping, pay the bills… The list was never ending. And this unequal division was one of the reasons she'd vacillated on the subject of marriage for half her life.

She sighed heavily. Not to mention, it clearly did not come naturally to her, running a household and raising children. She'd barely survived Baby Caruso, had floundered with the Gallant children, and tonight? A disaster from start to finish. She was either using the sotto voice Remington had once described as 'treacly,' or, as he'd pointed out again tonight, was screeching at the top of her lungs. It was no wonder the children migrated towards him, given how relaxed he was in their presence.

And dinner? It had been a point of pride, eating every last bite of the spaghetti on her plate, since she'd made it and the children had declared a coup. She could hardly blame them because it had been… awful… and her stomach had been reminding her of the fact ever since. It baffled her how it was possible to create such abominable fare when all she'd done was open a jar and boil some pasta, but she had. That thought was greeted by another frustrated exhale and a pair of fingers taking to her brow to rub.

Now the question was: Where had Remington gotten off to? She hadn't seen hide nor hair of the man since she'd left him with the other children while she'd assisted Laurie Beth with her bath. Pushing open the door to the kitchen, she came to a standstill.

It was immaculate.

The dining room table had been cleared, all the dishes apparently scraped, rinsed and placed in the dishwasher which was currently running through its cycle. She laughed to herself, when she realized he'd also been plotting apparently, for on the counter sat a bottle of wine and two glasses. Exactly what she needed after all that had gone on in the last twelve hours.

She laughed aloud, and smiled a wide, dimpled smile when she tugged open the refrigerator door to retrieve lunch meat and cheese to prepare the kids lunches for the following day. If the three brown bags sitting on the top shelf were any indication, he'd beaten her to that as well. Picking up a bag, she unfolded the top and peered inside. Indeed, a sandwich, carrot sticks and a single cookie were packaged inside. _That man._

She had to wonder if he would ever stop surprising her. Closing the refrigerator door, she plucked wine and glasses off the counter, turned out the kitchen light, then set everything on the coffee table in the living room before returning to Laurie Beth's bedroom. She was halfway down the hallway where the children's bedrooms were located when she heard the rich timbre of Remington's voice coming from one of the rooms. Following it, she leaned her back against the wall, simply listening.

"And the princess, seeing her prince locked in the tower, carefully scaled the wall—"

"What's scaled?" Laurie Beth could be heard asking.

"Hmmmm. Have you ever climbed a tree?" Remington asked.

"Yes, where we used to live."

"You know how you have to find a good branch to hold onto and then push your feet _hard_ against the trunk to help you up?"

"Uh huh," the little girl responded eagerly.

"Well, when one scales a tower, they find the perfect rock to hold onto, the just like that tree, find the right place for their feet so they might climb right up," he explained.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh," she elongated the word, the added sadly. "But a princess wouldn't do that because she's a girl, and girls don't climb or rescue people because they're not big enough or strong enough."

"That's not true at all," he corrected. "I have watched with my own eyes as your Aunt Laura scaled a tower, so to speak, in order to save the woman who works for us - our friend, Miss Krebs. And I can't count how many times she has rescued me."

"She _has?_ " she asked in awe.

"Cross my heart." The little girl's giggles trickled down the hallway.

"If Aunt Laura is the princess, are you the prince?" she asked somberly.

"I'd like to think so, little one," he replied with a serious undertone that saw Laura pressing her back to the wall and smiling.

"Do you like my Aunt Laura?"

"Mmmmm, very much," he confirmed.

"Do you love her, like my Daddy does my Mommy?" she asked thoughtfully. The question left Remington clearing his throat and Laura listening keenly from where she was undetected.

"Well, I think that's a question I should answer for your Aunt Laura before anyone else, don't you?" Outside the room, Laura scrunched her face, the question remaining unanswered even for a five-year-old.

"If you married my Aunt Laura, would you be my uncle?"

"It's how things of that sort work, yes," he answered handily. In the hall, Laura rolled her eyes.

"I wish you were my uncle, Mr. Remington," she told him sleepily.

"Stranger things have been known to happen," he answered cryptically. "Now, shall we finish the story before sleep—"

"What are you doing out here, Aunt Laura?"

Laura started when Mindy's voice called out from behind her, and from within Laurie Beth's room she heard Remington stop speaking and chuckle warmly. _That_ made her blush from head-to-toe. _Busted. Damn. And by a ten-year-old._

"Are you alright Aunt Laura?" Mindy asked as she approached her. "You're all red."

Inside the room that chuckle became a full blown laugh. _Double damn._

"I'm fine. Just getting ready to tuck your sister in and read her the bedtime story, as I promised," she half prevaricated. "Do you need something?"

"I'm just going to brush my teeth," the young girl answered.

"Have a good night, sweetie," Laura offered, then, taking a breath, stepped away from the wall and into Laurie Beth's room. "Laurie Beth, are you—" She stopped and feigned surprise at Remington's presence. "Here you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten off to." He merely raised a brow at her and smirked. Given there was no use continuing on the farce as he'd called her hand in that one action, she smiled at him. "Are you ready for that story?"

"Mr. Remington told me a story. It's almost over," the little girl answered.

"Alright, then I'll just sit here with you and listen to the end."

"So the princess scaled the castle walls," he continued on cue, "Rescuing her prince and they lived happily, ever after."

"The end," Laurie Beth amended. Remington stood and tucked the covers around the little girl, then accepted the hug she offered him with a smile.

"Yes. Now, off to sleep with you. You've school in the morning," he ordered, bussing her on the top of the head and stepping away. He watched from the doorway as Laura bid her goodnights as well.

"I'll see you in the morning, sweetie," she told the little girl, tucking the sheets a little more firmly.

"Good night, Aunt Laura."

With that, Laura turned off the bedside light and closed the door until it stood only open a crack.

"Danny and Mindy, then?" Remington inquired. Laura shook her head and laughed.

"They're not _babies_ , you know," she told him in the offended voices with which she'd been told the same by the children.

"Ah, there may come a day they regret dismissing the tradition of the 'tuck in' too soon," he mused, as they began walking back to the living room. She turned her head to him and cast it to the side slightly.

"Were you ever tucked in as a child?" Her inborn curiosity wouldn't allow her not to ask the question, but she assumed before it was ever spoken that it would go unanswered.

"There was one family, when I was three, maybe four," he frowned pensively. "Good people, couldn't have children of their own. So, to have me arrive? It was quite the cause for celebration, the child they'd always hoped to have. I lived with them for several months, and had, for that time, what most other children do: stories told while sitting in a lap and being rocked, bed time prayers, evening tuck-ins." He grew somber as he took a seat on the couch, and waited as she took a seat next to his side in response to his outstretched arm.

"So what happened?" she wondered, quietly. He gave his head a shake as though ridding it of the memories, and flashed her a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"They discovered she was with child," he supplied. "Times were hard for most families in Ireland during those days. They couldn't afford a second mouth to feed, so sent me on my way." He lifted a thumb to his mouth and worried the nail with his teeth.

"I'm sorry," she told him, her empathy and anger threading her voice.

She'd never understand how so many people had been so unforgivably cruel to a little boy who wanted nothing more than to know who he was and where he belonged. She turned her head and pressed her lips against his neck, hoping it would both convey her understanding of how that little boy must have felt and provide some measure of comfort. He leaned into the touch for a long moment, then seemingly put it all out of his mind. He poured them each a glass of wine, handed one to her, then reached for the remote control of the television. Easing back, he waited for her to adjust then turned on the telly and surfed through the channels looking for something to watch. He laughed aloud and nodded to the screen.

"Apropos for the evening, don't you think?" _Yours, Mine and Ours_ (Lucille Ball, Henry Fonda, United Artists, 1968) was being broadcast.

"As far as I know, you don't have any children and I _know_ I don't," she pointed out, then added, "Not to mention we aren't married. So, how do you figure that?" He pursed his lips, the corners of his eyes tilting upwards in a smile.

"Well, we do find ourselves surrounded by tykes this evening, do we not?" he proposed.

"I would hardly refer to three children as 'surrounded,' Mr. Steele," she retorted with a smile.

"Mmmmm. Even so I'd say we've done remarkably well when levied against our last two experiences with children, eh?" He mentally gave himself a quick kick in the shin while he watched both her mood and self-confidence plummet.

"You more so than I," she replied, suddenly taking a great interest in the nailbeds of the fingers on one hand.

"Laura, there's more to raising children than being able to toss together an edible pot of spaghetti," he pointed out.

"You're right," she appeared to agree, then added, "Such as not 'screeching', as you put it, or using a 'treacly' voice with them."

"Do you want to be a mother, Laura?" he asked. She pursed her lips and tilted her head, giving the question serious consideration.

"Yeah, I do, someday," she finally answered, solemnly. "One, maybe two."

"Then isn't that all that matters? I've never know you to be less than stellar at anything you've wanted to accomplish." Her lips lifted in a smile and she set the thought aside to ponder later when he shifted in his seat, to face her more fully. "Uh, Laura," he began, his eyes focused on her lips for a long second, until those lips pursed knowingly.

"Yes?" she asked impishly.

"You know how we've… indulged our fantasies from time to time?" She laughed silently.

"Go on."

"Living as I did in my youth, I never had an opportunity to explore one of the taboos of young dating rituals…" A dimple appeared in her cheek.

"Which taboo would that be?" she encouraged, fingering a button on his shirt.

"How did you once put it?" He searched his mind, then smiled when he retrieved the term from memories of their time together. "Necking with the girl I was seeing while she was elsewise occupied babysitting."

"I'm afraid I don't have the appropriate clothing to pretend to be a school girl, Mr. Steele," she flirted, trekking a finger from shoulder to belt.

"I've a vivid imagination," he dismissed, cupping the back of her neck and drawing her lips up to his. He sampled her lips briefly, then pulled away, smacking his lips together and enjoying her taste.

"Mmmm, yes, parochial school uniform it is then." She laughed aloud. It figured the Irish lad would go straight for the image of the Catholic school girl. Well, she knew how to light him up and in a hurry.

"Come to think of it," she began, as his lips lowered to hers again. Freezing, his eyes met hers and he lifted his brows in question. "I seem to recall Mother shipping my uniform to me in the same trunk my Atomic Man decoder ring was kept in." He backed away from her and simply stared.

"Laura, are you saying—"

"We can make that particular fantasy a technicolor reality one evening?" she finished for him. "I am." He growled low in his throat.

"You are truly a remarkable woman, Miss Holt," he praised in a gravely, desire filled voice. Pulling her to him again, he settled his lips over hers.

As their make out session had progressed, their positions relative to what they were seeking had changed. Initially, they'd been seated next to each, but as the kiss turned from tender to teasing, she'd straddled his lap, her fingers trailing whisper soft along his neck, through his hair, over his shoulders, while his hands traced her gentle curves, caressed her back, cupped her face and burrowed in her hair. When the kiss moved from teasing to sensual, he'd easily lifted her and moving with her, they'd stretched out prone facing one another, allowing for better access for lips to admire a neck, hands to roam more freely. And when that kiss had turned from sensual to flaming hot, hungry, he'd shifted to stretch his length over hers.

And when a little voice called, "Aunt Laura" from the hall entryway? A healthy shove had sent Remington to the floor, as Laura popped up into a sitting position and peered over the back of the couch.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I'm thirsty," Laurie Beth implored. Carefully climbing over her partner who lay at her feet quirking an upward brow at her, she took the little girl by the hand, accompanied to her the bathroom, then watched over her as she drank some water from the glass left there for just such a purpose.

"Where's Mr. Remington?" the child asked as she drank her fill. Laura chuckled a single, silent laugh at the image of him lying on the ground and the surprise written all over his face.

"He had a pressing matter to attend to but he'll be here when you wake up in the morning."

"I like Mr. Remington," Laurie Beth offered. A smile lifted Laura's lips.

"So do I," she answered. Taking the glass from the little girl's hand, she emptied it and set it on the counter. "Now let's get _you,"_ she ruffed her niece's hair, "Back to bed."

After tucking the child in, she returned to the living room where Remington now sat on the couch awaiting her. In no time at all, she was once again beneath him and he'd settled between her legs.

"An excuse me would have sufficed," he scolded, drawing a quiet laugh from her.

"I panicked, so sue me," she retorted with a pert grin. "Now, shut up and kiss me."

"That I can do."

His lips covered hers and in no time at all, they'd returned to the point where they'd been interrupted. Shirts were tugged out from under waistbands, hands explored warm flesh, and a pair of talented fingers easily released the clasp of a bra, baring even more skin to seeking hands.

"We have to stop," she murmured, then sought his lips again, humming against them when he searched for and found a pert nipple, teasing it. His lips left hers to blaze a path down her throat. Her hand clutched at his head, keeping him close.

"Or we could take it to the bedroom," he suggested, then lathed the sensitive hollow of her throat with his tongue.

"Oh, God, Remington," she moaned softly. "In Donald and Frances's bed? We can't…" He suckled at the nape of her neck for long seconds, until her fingers dug into his back.

"You don't imagine they're playing pinochle in _your_ bed, do you?" he challenged. Her hand stroked down his back then slipped under the tail of his shirt before dipping beneath belt and waistband to tease.

"I try not to imagine it at all." She scraped her nails lightly up his back making him tense, then exhale harshly.

"More like tiddly winks," he added, as though she'd never spoken at all. "Laura," he breathed her name, feeling a bit desperate at the moment. Her lovely body beneath his, his hand toying with her breast, her hand caressing his bare skin, her fingers playing in his hair, her savory skin under his lips… all of it combined to make him burn with need for her. With great resolve, she slipped from beneath him, stood and took several steps back from the couch.

"Take your shower, Mr. Steele," she said by way of refusing his suggestion. "Use the bathroom in Frances and Donald's room so you don't wake the children." He rolled to his back and scrubbed at his face with both hands, trying with all his might to calm his breathing and to not be annoyed with how far along things had progressed before she'd put a stop to them. "I'm going to go check on the children." She wasn't unaffected herself and if not for the children in the house, she would have gladly taken him right there on the couch. But there _were_ children… and a very frustrated man still lying prone, most of his face concealed by those wonderful hands. Releasing a harsh puff of breath, she left the room.

Laura checked on Mindy and Danny, then tucked the clearly restless sleeper, Laurie Beth, back under the covers. When she entered the master suite, the pit-pat of the water in the shower hitting the tiled floor could clearly be heard. Sitting down at the end of the bed, she drew both hands through her hair. It was at times like these that she wished she could release the 'old' Laura and allow her to come out and play. _That Laura_ wouldn't have thought twice about playing the naughty babysitter and shagging the man right there on the sofa, never mind the bedroom. _That_ Laura wouldn't have packed her man off to the shower where he could work out his frustrations in whatever manner he needed to, while she herself sat strung tight as a piano wire from unfulfilled need. _That_ Laura wouldn't be worried about any explanations she might have to make, as she'd proudly own it.

Where was _this_ Laura getting her? Nowhere but itchy, irritable and feeling more than a bit like a tease for encouraging him then directing him to shower.

She slowly stood. Then, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms against her pants, walked across the room and closed the bedroom door. In short order, she'd silently slipped into the bathroom, and shed her clothes. Remington looked up from where he was leaning against extended arms supported by palms to the shower stall wall, shocked by her arrival. Stepping under the spray with him, she let out a surprised yelp.

"It's freezing!" she objected, immediately adjusting the shower knobs until steamy water was streaming down upon them from the shower head above.

"Cold showers normally are," he groused, all not forgiven yet. She glanced down at the impressive erection he was still sporting.

"Do cold showers actually work?" she asked out curiosity, for current evidence suggested otherwise. He gave her an exasperated look.

"I was just about to take matters into my own hand, so to speak," he informed her, by way of answer.

"Working independently, then?" She took a step closer to him, and ran two fingers up the underside of his shaft, before taking it firmly in hand. "You know we always obtain the best results when we work as a team." He needed no further encouragement, and wrapped her in his arms.

After, dried off and fully clothed in pajamas, they lay in Frances and Donald's bed, Laura's head nestled beneath his shoulder and a leg entwined with his.

"You can't stay here all night," she reminded him for the third time. She'd set the alarm for 4:30 a.m. as soon as they'd climbed into bed and had declared he'd be banished to the couch when it sounded.

"You have my word. And we both know Remington Steele's word—"

"Is his bond," she finished for him, then poked a finger at his chest. "I'm not prepared to make the type of explanations Donald and Frances would demand should we get caught in a compromising position by the children… and I don't think you are either."

"Yes, yes. So we've agreed. Will you please just relax?"

She concertedly drew in a breath then let it out slowly. She'd agreed to this possible folly for no other reason than she enjoyed sleeping with the man and had found, in recent weeks, it was more and more difficult to live with her 'not on worknights' edict. She wanted more, as he'd expressed himself on more than one occasion, but had no idea how to give in to it without losing the increasingly fragile control she had over this relationship... not to mention her emotions. Another thought occurred to her, taking her mind off all the complications of them.

"Speaking of the children, where did you take them to lunch?" she wondered aloud.

"After a… vigorous… exchange of ideas, _McDonalds_ was settled upon."

"Oh, my," she drew out the words around her laughter. Pressing upwards, she looked down at him. "That must have been a sight to see. You, amongst the throngs of the meek and ordinary." He gave her a face.

"I'm glad you find my discomfort so amusing," he responded, drily. "I'll have you know, I blended in quite well, given I'd three tykes of my own accompanying me." Her brown eyes twinkled gaily at him.

"Did you eat?"

"I didn't have much choice in the matter, given it was my sudden craving for a Big Mac which drew a détente across increasingly hostile lines." She looked at him askance.

"How do _you_ know about the Big Mac?" she asked, curious. "I haven't known you to haunt fast food joints."

"Now, Laura, my knowledge knows no bounds," he prevaricated, straight faced. "It's practically an American Institution, to say nothing of its catchy slogan: 'two all beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions and a sesame seed bun.'" She stared at him and began to laugh again.

"Fred," she accused.

"Fred," he confirmed, with a grin.

"And did you actually _eat_ one?"

" _Every_ … _last_ … _bite_." She burst out laughing again, her eyes sparkling in merriment. "With great relish, I might add." _Rather like that heaping forkful of spaghetti at dinner this evening,_ he thought, but wisely kept to himself.

"And your delicately honed taste buds didn't lodge a protest?" she choked out. His eyes twinkled up at her.

"To the contrary. I found it positively… intoxicating." He lifted her hair over her shoulder, and studied her for a long moment, staggered, as he still was on occasion, by her loveliness. He grew serious. "But not nearly so much so as the taste of your lips."

Cupping the back of her neck, he drew her down to him, humming when their lips connected. For a fleeting moment, she forgot where they were, and shifted to stretch atop him as naturally as if they were in her loft or his flat. With that movement, his hum turned into a soft grunt of pleasure, as his lips took his pleasure of hers while her fingers dove into his hair. They savored one another for long seconds, before he chuckled low in his throat and drew away.

"Laura, unless we plan on a second shower this evening…" he left the thought unfinished. Nodding sagely, she tapped her lips to his a final time, then tucked herself back up against his side. Bussing her atop her head, he asked, "Do you think Frances will settle down?" She gave a sputtering, aggravated sigh.

"Donald's always been able to handle her in the past, so I hope so. I'd like to think she wouldn't put the career he's worked for in jeopardy…"

They spoke quietly until first she, then he fell asleep. And true to his word, when she woke at six-thirty to prepare the children for school, he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4: Perspectives

Chapter 4: Perspectives

Two evenings later, troubled, Remington lay staring at the ceiling in his bedroom, sleep refusing to come. While he'd genuinely wanted to help Laura's family however he might, much like two years prior with the Gallant children when Laura had been so inspired, he'd wanted to test the waters of parenthood, so to speak… Or more specifically, how they'd fair _together_ as a parental unit. Absent Laura's utter frustration in the kitchen, he'd been pleased to discover their combined skills were vastly improved over last attempts, despite the fact there had been a third child.

That, however, was not where his consternation lay. Twice she'd made a comment that had deeply unsettled him.

* * *

" _ **Why this sudden concern about my family?"**_

" _ **The Remington Steele that walked into my life three years ago wouldn't care a fig what happened to my family."**_

* * *

Is that really what she thought of him? That he was so disinterested in her family and, by virtue of that, had encapsulated himself from anything in her life which didn't pertain directly to him? Did she actually recall his interactions with her family so much differently than he? For, if memory served, he'd never been less than eager to get to know them.

In fact, he'd only been 'Remington Steele' but a few weeks when Abigail had made her first visit to LA and he'd positively horned in on Laura's plans with her.

* * *

" _ **Perhaps we can have dinner together," Laura suggested to her mother.**_

 _ **"Splendid idea," Remington praised. "I know just the place. In fact, the very table."**_

 _ **"Don't you have some previous engagement, Mr. Steele?" Laura asked, giving him a pointed look.**_

 _ **"Oh, I'll cancel it, whoever it is."**_

* * *

Indeed, he and Abigail had even bonded over childhood stories about Laura, while they awaited missing daughter and associate.

And when Donald and Frances had attended a convention in LA nearly two years past? Granted, he'd assumed Laura was stepping out on him and he'd been more than a bit put out, but once he'd discovered the pair were, in fact, her sister and brother-in-law? He'd not only helped prevent their inevitable deaths at the hands of a crazed patient of Donald's, but had veritably fawned over them both.

Didn't care a fig for her family? He'd put life and limb on the line more than once for her family, and he'd gladly do so again. Did Laura truly not understand, Abigail and the Pipers were important to her, therefore not only were they, by way of extension, important to him, but were of endless fascination. They'd known her the entirety of her life, had helped mold her into the beguiling, yet utterly frustrating woman, who had captivated him for years. How could he not be?

He had to wonder: would he and Laura ever be able to breech this divide between whom she believed him to be, at times, and who he knew he was, much of it by her own hand?

The inability to answer that question would plague his dreams when he finally dozed.

* * *

Fifteen minutes away, Laura, herself, was finding it difficult to stop her mind from working so that sleep could come, albeit for a very different reason. Her thoughts were awhirl with the conversation between Remington and Laurie Beth that she'd covertly listened in upon.

* * *

" _ **Do you love her, like my Daddy does my Mommy?"**_

" _ **Well, I think that's a question I should answer for your Aunt Laura before anyone else, don't you?"**_

* * *

Regardless of how the five-year-old might feel about the answer to that question, 'Aunt Laura's' answer to it was a resounding… YES! It had been nearly five months since they'd turned that corner, crossed that line, and she had no more idea how he felt now then she had then. Yes, they had great sex… phenomenal sex. Yes, she'd decided a long time ago that she didn't believe he'd made love with other women the way he did with her, for if he had, surely more than Felicia and Anna would have cropped up from his past by now. Yes, there were times she could feel his love in the touch of his hand, see it in his eyes.

But…

At one point in his life, he was, as she'd once referred to him as to Daniel, a 'charming cheat.' The man was so damned smooth, she had no doubt she could charm a nun out of her habit. Was she seeing things that didn't exist, something he wished her to believe because he'd finally conquered all her defenses, had gotten her into bed? She didn't think so, but how could she truly know? Frankly, she'd reached the point that she simply needed to know where she stood, good or bad. It was the not knowing that was driving her mad.

* * *

" _ **I wish you were my uncle, Mr. Remington."**_

" _ **Stranger things have been known to happen…"**_

* * *

And how was she supposed to interpret _that?_ The fact was, she'd been honest with Frances: She wanted a home and family just like any other woman. But, and it was a _big but_ , she didn't know that she felt compelled to be married to make that happen. She turned onto her side and frowned at the empty living room below. Hell, she wasn't sure if she even _wanted_ to get married one day. Which meant she was either living with a man, creating an unconventional home and family… or she'd be having a child wholly on her own. The latter was easily ruled out, as she never wanted a child of hers to grow up with a father in their life.

As for the former? She didn't know if she was capable of doing it again: living with a man when the only thing he had at stake was a change of address card. Wilson had taught her the hard way, that when there were no official ties between two individuals, except for a commitment – assumed, implied, or promised - to a joint future, it was far too easy for one to walk away and never look back. She wanted, _needed_ even… more. She needed to know there was enough at risk that they'd be compelled to fight to make it through the hard times, rather than take flight.

With a growl of frustration, she mentally set the entire matter to the side, and forced herself to review the case files on her desk until she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5: Dinner Menu

Chapter 5: Dinner Menu

After bidding farewell to their final client for the day on Friday afternoon, Laura closed the door to Remington's office and sashayed towards his desk. Grinning, he stood and met her midway, slinging his arms around her hips.

"Ready to call it a day, Miss Holt?" he asked, hopefully.

"I am," she nodded. Since their return from London, they'd alternated weekends on where they stayed. This week, it would be her loft. "But," she added, "I need an hour's head start."

"Hot date?" he teased.

"Yes, as a matter of fact," then laughed at his frown, before amending, "With a dinner menu." He did his utmost not to allow his dread to show.

"You know how much enjoyment I find in cooking for the two of us," he reminded her. "Why don't I stop by the market? I already had the menu planned for this evening: Caesar salad, followed by filet mignon with those parsley and parmesan potatoes you so enjoy." He took a step closer, and swayed a bit with her, while wagging his brows. "A chocolate mousse for desert."

"That sounds _wonderful_ ," she enthused. He smiled brightly and leaned down for a kiss, when she ruined the moment. "Tomorrow night." Kiss forgotten, his face fell. Pressing up on her tiptoes, she touched her lips to his and lingered there, until a hand slipped up her back and into her hair. When he attempted to deepen the kiss, she slipped away, then waggled her fingers goodbye at him. "An hour," she reminded him, then entered her office through their adjoined doors. Thirty seconds later, swinging purse held in hand, she bid Mildred a good weekend and left the office.

Shoving a hand in his pocket, Remington prepared to leave his office. A contingency plan would be needed for this evening should whatever Laura had planned go south, and he still needed to swing by his apartment, pick up a few necessities, then stop round the market to stock her cupboards and refrigerator… a task she was normally wholly disinterested in seeing to.

"Why so glum boss?" Mildred inquired when he walked into the reception area. "I'd think you'd be in high spirits given Miss Holt's gone for the day and you can sneak out early."

"She's _cooking_ ," he all but sulked, as he leaned his backside against the half wall across from her desk.

"Awww, it can't be that bad," she cajoled. "Or are you afraid she'll give you a run for your money?"

"Mildred, the woman somehow made _jarred_ spaghetti sauce so inedible even children wouldn't eat it." Mildred tittered at that.

"I'm sure it can't be that bad," she argued. He raised a brow at her.

"I'll have to make it a point to suggest she cook for the three of us one evening." Standing, he rapped on her desk twice, then bid her a good weekend.

Fifty-nine minutes later, he trod up the three flights of stairs to the loft, arms laden with groceries, with all the enthusiasm of a man marching off to the guillotine. Taking a deep breath outside her door, he plastered a wide smile on his face before pulling it open and stepping inside.

"Hi," she called from the elevated area of the room that had been declared as her bedroom some years before. Concealed by the open door to the closet, she continued, "Let me just finish hanging the dry cleaning and I'll be right down."

"Take your time." He eyed the table in the alcove, set with covered dishes, then raised a curious brow when the kitchen was neat as a pin, oven and stove cool to the touch. "I thought you were cooking," he called up to her.

"I never said that," she answered. "I said I had the menu planned."

"Ahhhh." Opening the refrigerator, he scanned the contents. As expected, it was virtually empty except for a couple of heels of bread, a spoiled container of milk, and a half-eaten pan of lasagna he'd left in the freezer two weeks prior. A peek in the freezer revealed everything else he'd cooked then frozen was gone.

By the time he'd put away the groceries, she'd joined him. He stood stock still, mouth gaping open, at the sight before him. Dressed in a prim, short sleeved white dress shirt with a Peter Pan collar, navy and green Scotch plaid skirt, navy knee high socks and a pair of saddle shoes, she was the epitome of the parochial school girls he'd admired from afar as a lad.

"My God." It was all that he could manage. She lifted her brows and smiled at him.

"I'm guessing it works for you?" His eyes perused her small frame again, as the tip of his tongue flicked against his lips.

"You've no idea how complete you fulfill my every fantasy," he answered gruffly.

"Good," she answered, nonchalantly. "So after dinner," she stepped to him, and drew a single hand down his front from neck to waist, her smile widening as she felt a tremor race through his frame, "We'll make all those fantasies come true."

"Dinner," he repeated. _Is the woman out of her bloody mind. She's dressed in… like… that?! And expects me to be able to concentrate on eating?!_

"Dinner," she confirmed, taking his hand and tugging him towards the table. "I'm sure you'll find it absolutely…" She lifted the lid off the first plate "…Intoxicating."

It took him long seconds to comprehend what he was looking at, so distracted was he by the woman next to him. Then the Styrofoam container and the name emblazoned upon it registered and he gave her a look that was half appalled, half disbelieving.

" _A Big Mac?"_ She pursed her lips trying to squelch the laughter that threatened to bubble over.

"I just thought since you enjoyed…" Her words ended in a surprised squeak, when he swept her off her feet, and began walking with purpose to her room. "But dinner!" she objected.

"Later. I'll eat every last bloody bite of that sandwich…. Later." She looked over his shoulder towards the table as he took the steps two at a time.

"But there's French fries!" she protested, feigning disappointment. In truth, she'd expected precisely this reaction. Had planned on it.

"Those, too… every last one," he vowed. "But the only thing that's going to be devoured around here right now is you."

Playfully tossing her on her bed, he dove in after her, covering her lips with his before the first note of her laughter could trickle across the room.

* * *

 _ **A/N: Up next – and Itchy Story. Written at the request of RS Fan 17.**_

 _ **Have an Itchy Story you'd like to see? Let me know the episode and we'll see if I'm inspired. I've been in quite the creative spirit since my time off**_


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